


Hiira's Scrapbook

by Molnija



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Enemies(?) to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Shirabu POV, Slow Build, doing your best, it doesn't have impact without caps, more tags TBA as usual!, that was in all caps when i first saved it WHERE DID THE CAPS GO, this is lowkey just a romcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: Kenjirou has one goal and one goal only: make it into the national orchestra of Japan.He studied hard to get into the prestigious Musical Academy of Karasuno for that exact purpose, and all he’s doing is with it in mind. To play alongside the best of the best he’ll give it his absolute all, even if he didn’t even make it on the school’s main orchestra and even if it means taking any opportunity, including the ones he hates.Accompanying him on his journey are annoying people and people he admires, whether he wants it or not – and a notebook of songs from an unknown composer that connect with him in a way no others ever have.





	1. A Piano and a Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa I'm very excited to write this!!!
> 
> hello and welcome to the not-quite-sequel to [Three Word Lullaby]()! you don't have to read 3wl in order to understand this one though, it's only going to give you some background information on certain characters, so whether you wanna go back to that first is completely up to you. (I mean, I'd be really happy if you did, but like. you do you)
> 
> unlike 3wl, this isn't a Choir AU. which means that unlike 3wl, I actually have no idea what I'm doing. other than my best. but I hope you'll like it anyway! also please excuse my very unrealistic school setup, I've had this in my mind since ch1 of 3wl and now I finally get to capitalise on it. it's fiction so it's fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be patient with Shirabu, I swear he'll loosen up eventually. that's kinda the point. although I have to say going from Akaashi POV to Shirabu POV is surely an Experience, they're both quiet but they think very differently ...
> 
> Oikawa wasn't supposed to be this important but he's very good at squeezing himself into situations that he doesn't belong in, so I suppose Oishira friendship is a thing now? if you can call it "friendship". Shirabu wouldn't. Oikawa might
> 
> in 3wl I named chapters after songs that existed in-universe but that ended up being such a pain that these are just gonna be good old-fashioned phrases / words / things that sound like chapter titles, I mean really what else are you supposed to describe them as? I have no idea how long this is gonna run but I do know that I am Not stressing over what to name what song anymore, no way, I'm through with that goodbye
> 
> speaking of 3wl I won't promise anything in regards to update speed, please don't expect too much from me I'm trying my best,, ANYWAY that's all the important things out of the way, here goes!

_To play a wrong note is insignificant, to play without passion is inexcusable._

       — Ludwig van Beethoven

 

* * *

 

He’s still not used to the piano lessons.

Forcing a stilted melody out of the instrument under the watchful eyes of a teacher he never asked for is nerve-wracking. Kenjirou’s always feeling like he’s doing something wrong even when he receives praise, and he’s wondered more than once why he’s doing this in the first place, but he knows the answer and he knows that he can’t quit.

“Geez, one could think you want to murder the piano with how hard you’re smashing the keys,” Oikawa says and he stops playing immediately to shoot an annoyed glare at him. Infuriatingly, it has no effect. Out of all the teachers in the world he got the one guy who’s not fazed by him. Just Kenjirou’s luck. “Do you really hate it this much?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers it anyway. “Yes. I think I’ve made that clear.”

“I’m doing this for free, you can at least pretend to be grateful!”

He is. And truth be told, he’s not a bad teacher. Thanks to him, Kenjirou has made leaps of progress and can confidently say he can play the piano now, though there’s still much left to learn. It’s been four months since they’ve started and he would recommend Oikawa if someone asked for piano lessons.

The problem isn’t Oikawa. The problem is that he despises the piano.

It’s big and clunky and generic. The piano is what people pick up when they decide they want to learn an instrument but can’t decide which one. The piano gets huge recital events and awards and world-famous players even people uninvolved in the music industry have heard of. The piano always hogs the goddamn spotlight, and on top of it all it’s not even part of an orchestra where it could be useful background noise. It’s his personal agenda as a brass player to be pissed off by the piano’s mere existence.

But he has to learn the godforsaken thing.

“You’re only doing it because your boyfriend asked you to,” Kenjirou shoots back, but Oikawa doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs and leans back against the sofa. He’s seen him sit there so many times now he considers him part of his apartment furniture, which also pisses him off.

“Your point being?”

Non-existent, unfortunately. Yet another thing to hate about this: he just can’t catch this guy off guard. Kenjirou’s used to his presence being at least a little bit intimidating to most people who aren’t Tendou, but it has no effect on Oikawa. “Who cares. Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’m trying, but you’re not doing a very good job.” He points at him as if that’s going to do anything. “You’re free to quit whenever you want. Much less work for me too.”

“I can’t quit,” Kenjirou shoots back without missing a beat. “That’s the one thing I absolutely can’t do.”

“Well, then you’re stuck with me and …” He points at the e-piano. “This guy. Think positive, Shiraboo, learning to play it means it wasn’t a total waste of money.”

“Stop calling me that,” Kenjirou says for the fourth time today.

“I might if you stop stalling and start paying attention,” Oikawa sing-songs with a face that indicates that he probably won’t stop either way.

“I hate this.”

“Why, aren’t you a ball of sunshine today. You can be grateful I’m used to much worse so I’m not affected in this slightest.” He’s aware that Oikawa knows full well how much that fact bothers Kenjirou. Their relationship is one of … Not quite mutual dislike, but mutual desire to be literally anywhere else rather than here.

He wants to say that this is all Semi’s fault, but as much as he wants to blame it on him, he can’t. Kenjirou needed piano lessons, all Semi did was ask around to help him find them.

(But god, does he want it to be Semi’s fault.)

Grumbling, he turns back to the piano, stares at it like he can burn a hole into it, and reluctantly places his fingers on the keys again.

It always ends like this, because this really isn’t a choice and all his complaining will get him nowhere. This is his only chance to improve.

So he plays the same damn song Oikawa has been making him play these past few weeks. It’s a step up from what they usually do, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that he can be proud of improving, but it’s also an absolute bitch to play and he hates it. It has pretty much everything it could have to make his life a pain, and the tempo is complete garbage that switches every so often.

He needs to – he absolutely _needs_ to master this. He needs to be good enough to be accepted into Karasuno’s music program. That’s the only reason he’s here.

Oikawa stops him every once in a while to point out his mistakes, and by the time they’re finally finished he’s gotten a bit better again and finally figured out how to play a certain part in the bridge he wasn’t fast enough for before.

Their practice sessions only last two hours but always feel like they drag on for an eternity. Kenjirou breathes a sigh of relief when he checks the clock and sees it’s time for Oikawa to leave again and let him have some peace and quiet in his own damn apartment, which has lately been starting to feel more and more like a music room at school rather than his safe haven.

“Make sure to practice on your own, I want this to be perfect next Saturday,” Oikawa sing-songs, clearly having more fun with Kenjirou’s misery than he has any right to, and packs his things together before heading for the door.

 _Good riddance_ , Kenjirou thinks.

Just before he’s out the door though, Oikawa stops in his tracks and turns back around with a smile that spells trouble. “Oh, before I forget, could I ask you for a favour?”

“No,” he says without hesitation.

Oikawa, of course, doesn’t care. “I’ve got an assignment in one of my classes to write a song and perform it in a group. Kuro-chan and Semisemi have already agreed to work with me, so I thought we could make a little band, but there’s no one else in our class who’s willing to join us and we still need a bassist and a keyboarder.”

“No,” he repeats, to no effect once more.

“You see, I already asked Keiji but he has a lot on his plate, with work and choir and school and whatnot …”

“I also have work, orchestra, and school.”

Undeterred, Oikawa continues, “And I thought that maybe it’d be nice practice for you. Playing on your own like this is fine and all, but actually getting to perform is going to be very beneficial to you. Light a flame under your butt to finally take this more seriously …”

“I am taking it seriously, and I have absolutely no reason to help you—”

“Extra credit.”

What?

Oikawa’s smile grows a little wider, like he’s figured out how to get Kenjirou. Unfortunately, he has a point, that ass. “Of course I wouldn’t ask this of you if there wasn’t anything in it for you. The professor is Kurosu-sensei … As you may be aware, he’s the one responsible for grading the piano practical exams … If he saw you play well, I’m _positive_ it’d help you transfer.”

Curse him. Curse him for knowing exactly where Kenjirou’s weaknesses are. Curse him for being right.

He doesn’t want to answer, and especially not to answer that which Oikawa already knows he’s going to answer, but if this is the case, he doesn’t really have a choice. This is the exact opportunity he’s been wanting to create, presented to him on a silver platter. This is his chance to finally be able to do what he’s been wanting to do ever since he could remember.

“Fine,” he spits, and as always his death stare has no effect.

“Great!” Oikawa exclaims as if he’s really surprised. “I’ll send you our practice times and everything once we’ve got a bassist. Always a pleasure to work with you, Shiraboo!”

And with that he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Kenjirou just stands there and stares at the door for a while, trying to process what just happened and what he just agreed to. A one-time band with Oikawa Tooru … Some Kuro-chan person he has never met and only knows from Oikawa complaining about him sometimes ... And Semi.

Semi, as far as he knows, focuses on sound mixing but also plays the drums, so that’s going to be fun. If Kuro-chan, whoever the fuck they are, is anywhere near as obnoxious as Oikawa makes him sound, he thinks they could get along, but Semi is going to be a real problem. Playing in the same band as Semi Eita, who’s been a thorn in his side ever since he came here? Kenjirou’s not sure if he’d rather take that or these piano lessons.

But … _But_.

This is his chance.

The Musical Academy of Karasuno is a big-ass prestigious school that you can only get into if you truly excel at your craft … Most of the time. There’s two things you can do if you want to come here.

First, you go the normal route, audition with two instruments – or one in very special cases – and take the entrance exam to have two years of generalised studying to give you a basis for pretty much everything, and then you choose your specialisation in the third year. Most people do this, as it makes it easier to switch if you find something you enjoy more than what you originally planned and it gives you more job options due to broader general knowledge.

Second, though, you apply for a specialisation right off the bat and things are a little bit different. Depending on what you want to do, the entrance exams and auditions differ. He thinks his friend Mai has a friend like that, a first year who went straight into studio mixing and sound design. It gives you more info about your chosen field, of course, but it also serves as a way for people who couldn’t get in normally to study at Karasuno.

People like Kenjirou.

He doesn’t give a shit about Music History. It’s right there with the piano in the corner of Things He Has To Do He Rather Wouldn’t. Music History only really helps you if you want to go into teaching, which he doesn’t, and it barely even qualifies as its own subject with how much unrelated general bullshit they get stuffed with in most of their courses. Sometimes he thinks that the Music History line of study only got established because the higher-ups wanted to give some more untalented people a chance to brag about being at Karasuno. And to top it all off it’s not even something that interests him.

The only reason he’s doing it is because he has to take every chance he gets to make it a few steps further. That’s why he’s practicing the piano, too – to retake the entrance exam, repeat his first year if necessary, and become a full-fledged performer.

Kenjirou has one goal, and one goal only: to play with the national orchestra. To do that, he needs to be the absolute best at what he does. And to do _that_ , he needs to have proper training, training that he can only get at a school like this.

With a groan, he flops onto his sofa, feeling like he’s just asking for trouble with this but also knowing that he can’t say no. If he does well and impresses Kurosu, he’ll definitely remember that when he retakes the entrance exam. If he does even better than that, maybe he can convince him to just let him transfer into second year – he is taking most of the classes he’d need for that in year one.

He just wishes it wasn’t with Oikawa. Or, no, scratch that: he just wishes it wasn’t with Semi. Oikawa is just an annoying side character in the drama that is his life right now. Semi is going to be the bigger issue. Because of fucking course, Semi just _has_ to be there whenever something important is happening. Fuck Semi.

“Fuck everything,” he mutters to nobody in particular and stares up at the ceiling. This is a tiny apartment in the cheapest part of the city, right by a noisy-ass street used mostly by trucks, and sometimes he wonders if it’ll all collapse while he’s still living here, but at least he can afford it. He’s paying the for it all on his own and to be honest, he has no damn clue why. His parents are rich. They said something about ‘standing on your own two feet’ but that’s also bullshit, since they do pay the school fees. _Make up your minds._

If – no, when he transfers, it’s going to be even more expensive. He’ll have to take care of his euphonium and his piano much more than he’s doing right now. Taking up another job is impossible, so he really hopes that the combined effort of his parents being lenient and his weekend job at the restaurant across the street will be enough. There’s no way he can work during the week unless he does something at night and throws away any notion of sleep.

But even if that’s necessary, it’ll all be worth it in the end.

So he’ll play in this godforsaken band, and he’ll keep practicing the piano no matter how much he hates it, and he _will_ make it. There’s no other way. He studied his ass off to get into Shiratorizawa Academy first – a school with entrance exams feared throughout the prefecture – and then Karasuno. He can do this. He’s nothing if not determined.

As long as he keeps telling himself that over and over again, everything will be fine. He cannot let himself lose sight of his goal. It’s posted all over the apartment on colourful post-it notes from a block Tendou gave him when he graduated (something about ‘I entrust my heirloom to you, Shirabu’. He didn’t really understand it), every little reminder so he’ll always stay on schedule and remember what he’s doing this for, even when he feels like quitting.

That’s what goals are for, after all. To reach them.

 

* * *

 

On the list of things that annoy Shirabu Kenjirou, several people are up there in the top ten. One of them is sitting right across from him.

Yahaba isn’t talking to him, despite this being partnered work that they have to present together, just scribbling away on his exercise sheet not sparing Kenjirou so much as a glance. It’s better this way, probably. Something about him just drives him up a wall, so usually whenever they talk it ends in them arguing. Yahaba has a similar aura to Oikawa, except with a shorter temper and nowhere near the same amount of social skill. Apparently the two of them went to the same high school, too.

Kenjirou himself is long finished with his half of their work, so he’s taken to staring at Yahaba and attempting to burn a hole into him with nothing but his eyes. Maybe it’d set his hair on fire and finally force him to get a better haircut. What _is_ that, even? He looks like a creampuff. At least it’s not dip-dyed like a certain other fashion disaster’s. Though the colour is similar. Not quite as grey, maybe, more a light ashen brown. It reminds him of winter, which also pisses him off – it’s cold as hell during Karasuno Novembers and it’s not looking up anytime soon.

“If you stare for any longer I’m gonna assume you have a crush on me,” Yahaba says without looking up from his sheet.

“You wish,” Kenjirou hisses.

“I’m good, actually.” He writes something down, completely undeterred, and turns the paper around, pointing at it with his pen. “But because I did all the work, you’re gonna present it.”

“What do you mean, you did all the work? We had exactly the same amount.”

“Nah, yours was a lot easier. I had to actually think. All you had to do was write down some stuff you found on Google.”

“That’s not what it was and you know it!” God, this guy. It’s always like this. It’s like he has a personal vendetta against Kenjirou – or, Kenjirou has a personal vendetta against Yahaba – or, both have a personal vendetta against each other for no other reason than that they just rub each other the wrong way. Sometimes you have those people. Those people who have technically not done anything wrong, but they just … _Annoy_ you.

Although Yahaba isn’t innocent or anything like that. It’s not like he’s particularly nice to him. Kenjirou has every right not to like him.

“Alright, then can you tell me—”

“No. Fuck off.”

Yahaba finally looks up at him with an annoyed glare that mirrors Kenjirou’s feelings pretty effectively. “I get it, you don’t want me to know you actually don’t know shit, but this is still a group presentation, so at least pretend to be cooperative.”

He slams his hands down on the table in a sudden fit of rage. “Cooperative? You told me to do the whole presentation alone!”

“Shirabu, don’t yell,” the professor scolds him from across the room.

Kenjirou sends another glare to Yahaba before bowing quickly and saying, “I’m sorry. We’ll be quiet now.”

“What are you sucking up for?” Yahaba asks when he’s sitting down again.

“It’s called basic human decency. Try it out sometimes, it might suit you.”

He has no problem working with people he hates. Really, he doesn’t. As long as that person is civil with him, he can get over it and just do his part. But Yahaba? Yahaba just gets his blood pressure right up. It’s always the same thing, him being condescending and then pretending he has the moral high ground because he’s soo much more mature. That’s Oikawa’s kouhai alright.

“I wasn’t the one disrupting class,” Yahaba mutters in that exact tone he hates so much. “Anyway, let’s share our results so you know what you have to present.”

Oh, he hates him. He really does. “You know what, fuck you. I have better things to do than argue. Fine, I’ll do the presentation, and I’ll claim all the credit for it so you get nothing but called out for making me do it all alone.”

“If I cared about that I wouldn’t have said all of this.” Yahaba sighs. “There’s classes I care about but this isn’t one of them. All we need to do is pass the final exam anyway.”

He’s not wrong, their grade is entirely dependent on that exam, provided they’re admitted for it, which is really difficult to screw up. But what kind of mindset is that supposed to be? Kenjirou stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out what to retort to that, and eventually decides it’s useless anyway. “Hand over your worksheet, I’ll need to actually know what I’m presenting.”

“Another victory for me,” Yahaba sing-songs with a smug smile he’d very much like to punch and pushes his paper over to him.

As much as Kenjirou hates to compliment him, he has to admit that he has impeccable handwriting. Probably better than his own. It’s all neat and rounded and not a single letter is out of place, even the side notes written with a teal pen look like they belong there in the margins. Why is he trying so hard with this worksheet but not with anything else in this class? How annoying.

(He mentally jots down a reminder to revise his own handwriting and streamline his note-taking process. Like hell is he gonna lose to this guy.)

At least it makes combing through it and filtering out the information that’s most important to present really easy, so he won’t complain too much. This is probably the nicest thing Yahaba has ever done for him – if unintentionally –, might as well milk it for all it’s worth.

It’s not like any of this is all that bad, technically speaking. Sure, it’s a matter of principle, but he won’t do any worse in this class just because his work partner (who, by the way, he’s only working with because the professor thought deciding this by random draw is totally how to run a class) isn’t getting off his ass. He just wishes things could go smoothly for once. Is that too much to ask?

In the end, the class finishes without them having exchanged another word, and without the actual presentation because the group before theirs took so long that they couldn’t squeeze it into the schedule anymore. That, too, is really annoying.

Kenjirou sighs as he leaves the classroom and pulls out his phone to see if he has any messages from his upperclassmen in the orchestra. There’s nothing yet, though.

They’ve been meaning to move storage rooms for a while now, but they still haven’t gotten any room that’s close enough to their usual practice locations and big enough to house all those instruments, apparently. But the one they have right now is definitely too small; a lot of people joined when the second half of the year started, so now they’re running low on space. Especially the fact that the brass section has doubled its size is making problems, and unfortunately, that’s Kenjirou’s section. At least he got to switch back to the euphonium now that they got two extra tubas, he really doesn’t do as well with the latter.

Of course, this wouldn’t be an issue for the main orchestra of the school. Those guys get whichever rooms they ask for. But they’re just the B-string, the second fiddle, the dump for those who didn’t pass auditions, and nobody really cares about them. If they’re lucky they get to help out with organising the school concerts or maybe, just maybe, even do a single intro act, but that’s if the school board is really desperate.

“Yo, Shirabu, what are you standing around here for?” someone’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and suddenly he’s faced with Futakuchi Kenji, his … Friend? He bonded with over their mutual dislike for Yahaba, though he’s still questioning just how genuine that dislike is on Futakuchi’s part.

“Orchestra stuff,” he simply replies.

“You guys still looking for a bigger room?” Ah, looks like he didn’t forget the last three times Kenjirou complained about it to him. That’s mostly what their relationship is, really. They don’t have any classes together, they just tend to sit in the same corner of the library a lot, and most of their conversations are just going off about things that are currently inconveniencing them (including Yahaba, more often than not). It’s kind of therapeutic, in its own way. “Geez, I’m glad I don’t have to hurl a tuba around every day. Join the choir instead, why don’t cha?”

“The day I sing in front of an audience is the day you all drop dead.” He hates admitting it, but he hates not admitting it even more, so Kenjirou supposes he’s better off being honest about the fact that he can’t hold a note, let alone sing a song. He doesn’t have to to play an instrument, of course, but still, a musician that can’t sing is a little bit pathetic.

“Guess so.” Futakuchi stretches and yawns. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Kenjirou glances at the clock on the hallway wall. “It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Exactly.” He points at him as if that cleared up everything. “Before I go though, I can ask around for a room for you guys? Pretty sure I can get someone to talk to the student council or something.”

“That’s … Awfully generous of you,” Kenjirou says slowly. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I’m just tired of hearing about the same problems every time we meet.” Okay, yeah, makes sense. “Anyway, night!”

“Four in the afternoon,” he repeats, but Futakuchi is already heading down the hallway at record walking speed. What did he do to be so tired now? Pull an all-nighter? That’s his own damn fault, then.

But if he really did find a room for them, that’d be great. It’s unlikely, because this is still Futakuchi and as far as Kenjirou is concerned, Futakuchi has never done anything productive for him ever, but miracles happen sometimes, so he’s holding out at least a small sliver of hope.

 

* * *

 

He has no more classes that day, and usually he’d go straight home, but today is one of those elusive days when he can get a hold of the main choir’s rehearsal room before anyone else. If he has to pick whether he wants to practice on his e-piano or an admittedly beautiful grand piano that must have cost a fortune, he knows what he’ll choose.

As much as he hates pianos, he has to give this one credit. It’s white and pristine and must be incredibly well cared for, and the keys already _look_ inviting. A small part of his mind wonders if he even deserves to play this thing, but this room is open for anyone, so of course that doesn’t matter. He’ll probably audition on a piano like this too, better get used to it.

Kenjirou sits down on the piano stool and drops his bag down next to him on the floor. He did bring sheet music, since you never know when you’ll get this opportunity, but for now he kind of wants to see how far he can go without it. These months of practice must have been good for something, right?

He places his fingers on the keys with such care it surprises even himself – guess the presence of such a beautiful instrument brings this out in you, or it might just be the fact that he’s not actually a pianist and, again, part of him already feels like he shouldn’t be here –, but he can’t bring himself to actually press down.

 _Stupid_ , he thinks. _Just do it like always._

But ‘like always’ means ‘with sheet music’, sure he can play simple songs on his own but he’s never attempted something bigger without them, and he thinks he _could_ do it, probably, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he _wants_ to. Well, he did want to until a few seconds ago, but now it doesn’t feel right anymore.

He stares at the piano for a moment, feeling like cursing it, but coming up short on actual curses.

Kenjirou sighs and reaches down to pull out his folder of sheet music he’s compiled – it’s a different one from the one Oikawa gave him for practice, because he hates most of those songs and he’d rather be playing something he actually enjoys, but he has been practicing these a bunch at home. So much, in fact, that flipping through it looking for a piece to play now just makes him think _no, not this one_ over and over again.

Seriously? He doesn’t usually waver this much.

But this is a choir room with a huge piano in it, there’s definitely going to be some valuable sheet music in here somewhere. There’s a bookshelf just a few steps away that looks relatively promising. How hard can it be to find something he wants to play right now?

He stands up and walks the short distance over – each one of his steps sounding too loud, as if he’s intruding still – to check out what’s on there. Sure enough, there’s plenty of material here, most of them choral arrangements, for obvious reasons, but he can work with that.

When he pulls out one of the bigger books, titled in a language that’s either Italian or Spanish, he doesn’t particularly care, something small falls out and lands on the floor with a _smack_.

Kenjirou pushes the book back in and squats down to the floor instead to see what he just unearthed there, only to find that it’s a small, if relatively thick, notebook with only the word _Hiira_ written on the cover. Is that someone’s name?

He picks up the book and opens it slowly.

It’s … A mess. A mess of terribly handwritten sheet music with a treble clef that hardly looks like one and notes he can barely read scribbled all over the page. Compared to Yahaba’s handwriting from earlier, this was definitely made by someone who doesn’t give a damn if their stuff is actually readable or not. It looks like a scrapbook of some sort, just a collection of wild ideas this Hiira person had to jot down quickly so they wouldn’t disappear. Still, this is so careless he’s almost disgusted by the idea that someone would treat their stationery like this. Some of the later pages look like they had coffee spilled on them.

But regardless of what it looks like, there’s one thing he has to commend it on: it’s completely full. Every last corner, at least from what he can see flipping through it, is filled out with amendments and crossed out sections and so, so many notes. Considering the thickness of this thing, that’s actually pretty amazing.

Kenjirou has some composing experience, but for him it’s always been something that needs time, not something he’d hastily scribble down in some notebook. Different minds operate in different ways, it seems.

Either way, what is this doing here?

He looks back up at the bookshelf, but it’s so neatly packed that he doubts this notebook ended up in there by design. Maybe the owner shoved it in there because they wanted to get rid of it but couldn’t bring themselves to throw it in the trash, or someone forgot it here. From the looks of this thing, it’s pretty old, too.

Squatting here on the floor, looking back and forth from the shelf to the book and back, slowly but surely a question materialises in his mind that he doesn’t have an answer to.

What is he supposed to do with this?

Just put it back? Take it with him? Ask someone if they know about this? Oikawa and Futakuchi are both in choir, and so is Mai, they’re probably his best bet. Leaving it here to rot doesn’t sound like a good idea, though.

Before he can settle on something, he hears the door opening, and that pretty much makes his decision for him. He’s not here to be asked by some stranger why he’s on the floor staring at a notebook that doesn’t belong to him. So he quickly stands up, puts the book on the top of a row on the shelf, and turns back around to sit down on the piano stool before he can look out of place any more than he’s already feeling.

“Shiraboo!”

He flinches.

That thing about a stranger? He takes that back. Anything is better than Oikawa Tooru coming in to see him seemingly diligently practice. He’ll hear ‘ha, I knew you were secretly working hard!’ for weeks on end.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says.

“Isn’t that exactly what you say when you’re caught doing something?” He has his back turned to him, but he doesn’t need to see his face to see the smug grin. “Even though I don’t really know what you mean. Unless, of course, you want to say you didn’t fall in love with this piano, in which case I don’t believe you.”

Kenjirou whirls around as quickly as his dignity allows to glare at him. Sure enough, he was dead-on when it comes to his expression. “I just came here by chance. I’m not here to practice.”

Oikawa looks past him at the piano and nods. “Sure, that’s why your bag is standing next to the stool and your sheet music folder is sitting on the stand. What do you take me for, a complete idiot? Also, why would you lie about that?”

“Spite,” he blurts out.

“Yeah … Figured as much. It’s cuter on Keiji though, so don’t even bother.” Oikawa walks past him and ruffles his hair in passing, despite Kenjirou’s protesting scowl. “So, what are you playing?”

“Nothing.” That one’s the truth at least.

Oikawa doesn’t even dignify that with a reply, just looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t know what to play, so I didn’t play anything.”

“Then it’s good that I’m here! Do you want to do _A Song I’d Like To Sing_ again?” His tone suggests he knows exactly how much Kenjirou hates that one. It wasn’t even that bad in the beginning, but Oikawa drilled it into his head for so long that he’s been starting to hear it in his nightmares. “Or maybe we can pick one from the supply here …”

He suddenly stops and looks at the bookshelf, more precisely the row that Kenjirou placed the notebook on.

“What?”

Now it’s Oikawa’s turn to pull out that book and flip through it with confusion written all over his face. It’s a bit validating. “Has this always been here? And this handwriting is worse than Iwa-chan’s.”

“So you don’t know it?”

“Never seen it before. Actually, I’ve never even seen anyone use any of these books.” He closes the notebook again and turns it over a couple of times to inspect it. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

There goes the potential answer to that question. If Oikawa doesn’t know, it’s unlikely anyone else does. The next best thing would probably be to … “Give it to a professor?”

“I doubt they’d actually want this. I don’t know of any Hiira either, if that’s the name of this person …” He puts a hand on his hip and cocks his head, staring down at the book in his hands.

“Just leave it here then.”

“To rot for all eternity? There’s gotta be a better use for these songs than that. Hey, what if we use one of them for the band project?”

“You said the assignment was writing your own song,” Kenjirou reminds him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” That sounds more like it. Oikawa strikes him as many things, but an underachiever isn’t one of them. “Still, I kinda wanna keep this. Maybe there’s some good stuff in there once I decipher the handwriting.”

That’s one way to deal with it, he supposes. “Do as you please, I really don’t care.”

“That’s the tsundere way to say that you really do care,” Oikawa says and lightly hits him on the head with the notebook.

“Don’t call me a tsundere,” Kenjirou mutters, to no avail.

“Hey, tsun-chan, do you think you could use some of these for practice? If they’re actually worth anything, that is. Since you said you couldn’t think of a song …”

“It’s a scrapbook. I doubt there’s anything worthwhile in there.” Besides, how is he supposed to play from sheet music he can hardly read?

Oikawa, however, doesn’t look convinced. “Don’t you watch movies? This is exactly how the big dramatic stories start. Some melancholic McGuffin that kicks off the protagonist’s development … Oh, but the protagonist is me, of course. You’ll get to be a side character if you try really hard!”

“I’m the one who found this,” he says.

“Are you? If I recall, I saw it sitting on the bookshelf like that.”

“Only because it fell out when I was looking through the books and I put it back there.” He gestures to the shelf. “It was stuck in between books and dropped to the floor when I pulled one out.”

Oikawa is silent for a second, then snorts. “I thought you didn’t care.”

He flinches, and the rapid heat rising to his cheeks is probably betraying his feelings pretty well. “I … Don’t just say you’re the protagonist when I was the one who found it.”

“Fine then, if you want it so badly, have at it.” He holds out the book to him and Kenjirou stares at it for a moment, unsure what to do. Taking it would mean admitting he does care, a little, if unreasonably so, but not taking it would just make Oikawa call him a tsundere again. No matter what he does, he loses.

Apparently Oikawa decides he took too long, though, and steps away, instead opting for heading toward … Kenjirou’s bag?

Sure enough, he puts the book in there without a second of hesitation. Not even bothering to turn back around, he says, “You know, Shirabu, you’d do a lot better if you stopped caring about what others think of you.”

He takes too long to reply for it to have any impact. “I don’t. I don’t care. It’s just a pain when people treat you in a way that annoys you.”

“Everything annoys you, that’s why it’s so much fun to mess with you. Or something like that,” Oikawa declares and when he finally turns his head to look up at him from the floor, he shoots him a peace sign and a smile that betrays absolutely nothing.

Kenjirou feels a shiver run down his spine.

“A-ny-way,” he sing-songs and stands back up, “are you here to practice now or not? Maybe I can use this opportunity to show you the song we’ve been working on for the band. Since you’re gonna have to perform it in concert and all.”

“Do you even have rehearsal times set yet?” As much as he – unwillingly – appreciates the change in topic, none of that actually matters if they won’t get the band together to practice. He’s sure everyone’s schedules are going to make that pretty difficult.

“Just leave that to me, Shiraboo. Now, do you wanna hear it? It’s only a sample for now, but just in terms of the direction we want to go in …” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and waves it around lazily. “I’ve got it right here.”

Kenjirou sighs. He’ll have to hear it sometime, sooner or later, so he might as well do it now. Worst-case scenario, it’s going to be annoying to play _and_ a bad song, but he wants to believe that they’ll write something halfway decent at least.

“Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the language of this fic is English but in Japanese, please imagine Oikawa's "Shiraboo" to be in a very bad American accent


	2. From Yesterday to Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in 3wl I had a policy to only update after midnight for some reason, but this isn't 3wl, so I can finally do away with that!
> 
> I stole this song from BanG Dream!, Neo-Aspect is a Roselia song and a really good one at that! but BanDori isn't a thing in this verse, so just imagine these guys actually wrote it. also, the version this is based on is [my own English version of it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgMpvWjKYyA), so at least the lyrics are mine, coughs.
> 
> I promise Yahaba's actually gonna be in chapters ... just not this one. I mean, he gets mentioned, so that's good enough, right? it's mostly set-up, there's a lot of stuff Shirabu ~~represses~~ would rather not talk about, but it's gonna get dug up if I have any say about it. what's Taichi's involvement? well, you just gotta wait and see.
> 
> Oikawa said in one chapter of 3wl that he was emotionally invested in Shirabu's lessons ... he played it off as kind of a joke, but he was actually pretty serious about it. I think those two could have an interesting relationship even in canon, they're both extremely hard workers but they show it in different ways ... Oikawa would be a good senpai for Shirabu. ... that's why he is, in this fic. it's what fic is all about, isn't it?

The building in front of him doesn’t look like a place where a band would be practicing.

When Oikawa sent him the address to their new rehearsal grounds, he kind of assumed it’d be a music school or a studio or at least some basement, but instead he’s standing at the door to a tiny hotel squeezed in between low-budget restaurants, reading over the message over and over again wondering if maybe he got the place wrong after all, but no, this is it.

Kenjirou kind of wishes he’d gotten it wrong though, because this hotel is on the other side of the city and it takes him so long to get there that it might interfere with work if he doesn’t sort this out with his soon-to-be temporary bandmates (a thought that still doesn’t want to click in his head).

But for now, all he really can do is go in. Regardless of whether he wants it or not, he’s a part of this now. He already told Oikawa he’d do it, there’s no backing down from that now.

The door is heavy and creaks a little when he opens it, and when he looks inside, he finds a narrow entrance hall that barely even qualifies as such, lit only by warm but not very bright wand lamps. It’s certainly atmospheric, at least it would be if this was a set for a Harry Potter knock-off fantasy movie. Which it’s not. They’re supposed to practice here? He doubts you could even set up a drumkit in this place.

The only thing of note aside from the staircase at the back of the room is the reception desk, so he might as well as there. Nobody’s manning it right now, but he finds an old-fashioned bell to ring, and soon enough a person appears from a back room.

As soon as Kenjirou sees who that person is, he wants to turn back around.

“Oh, Kenjirou! So Semisemi wasn’t lying when he said you’re coming along,” Tendou Satori says and leans over the counter to pat Kenjirou on the head. He’d have taken a step back if he wasn’t frozen in terror.

Tendou isn’t a bad person. A strange person, sure, but actually one of his Shiratorizawa upperclassmen he got along with the best, and he still gets texts from him from time to time (that he never replies to). However, that does _not_ mean he wants to run into him in this hotel that looks like it’s the scene for a supernatural murder case. He suits this mood almost too well, to the point where it’s alarming.

“What are you doing here,” Kenjirou says flatly.

“I work here, duh. How do you think you guys got this place?” He winks at him and twirls a set of keys around on his index finger. “D’ya wanna go downstairs? It’s roomier there!”

That sounds like Tendou is asking him to follow him somewhere so he can kill him. Maybe he really did wander into an alternate reality where he’s suddenly starring in a movie. “I’d rather not.”

“Meh, whatever, you’re the first one here anyway. Even though Tetsurou said he’d be an hour early! Can’t trust anyone anymore.”

“Didn’t you ditch an appointment with Semi-san once without telling him to go to an anime convention?” Kenjirou mutters but decides it’s not worth the hassle. Tendou is one of those people with whom you just can’t argue. Tendou is Tendou, for better or for worse.

“Ah, I see, you’re caught up with Semisemi, that makes things a looot easier. I mean, we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot again! Just like in high school!” Tendou sighs and closes his eyes with a reminiscing smile. “Like when we snuck into his school to sabotage his teacher’s files and got class cancelled …”

“Don’t say ‘we’. You only dragged me along to have someone standing guard. And I left as soon as you were out of sight.” This, too, he says quietly to himself, more so that Tendou won’t talk him into actually believing what he’s telling him about. He has that kind of talent to make people doubt their own experiences. Unfortunately.

“But it’s so nice that you two are finally on the same school! Even though I’m all alone now …”

“Don’t you two share an apartment?” Kenjirou sighs. “Look, I don’t care about any of this. I just want to practice and be done with it.”

“That’s a very Kenjirou thing to say! All work no play, you gotta let loose sometimes.” He takes out his phone from his pocket and scrolls on it rapidly for a bit until he seems to find what he’s looking for and holds it out to him. It’s a photo of the flyer for some idol group concert happening here soon. “Let’s go see SOUNDSCAPE together! I have two tickets but nobody to go with—”

“Tendou-san. Stop. Please.”

“You are no. Fun.” Tendou pouts, but it quickly changes into an affectionate grin that looks pretty scary coming from him. “But that’s why we like you!”

He’s about to reply _You like me?_ even though he knows that, for some reason, Tendou really does like him, but before this conversation can go on any longer he’s saved by the door opening just as audibly as it did before and both of their attention being turned toward the person, or rather people, coming in.

“Good morning!” Oikawa sing-songs as he strolls into the lobby like he owns the place.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” the person behind him states before Kenjirou gets a chance to do it himself. He’s tall, taller than anyone here except maybe Tendou, and his black hair is standing up so strangely it adds a few centimetres. By method of elimination, this must be that Kuro-chan person Oikawa was talking about.

Tendou points at … Kuro-chan and gasps overdramatically. “You! You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

“I was. I brought the instruments and left again.” His gaze slips over to Kenjirou and he immediately feels himself standing up a little straighter. Oikawa is his own brand of intimidating, but this guy …

He looks like a delinquent, but that’s not what he’s getting from him. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s seen him on the student council. And he’s not about to ruin his chances with that.

“I’m Shirabu Kenjirou,” he says and bows. “I’ll be helping out playing the keyboard. Nice to meet you.”

“Why are you never that polite with me?” Oikawa whines.

“I was until you proved you didn’t deserve it,” Kenjirou says just quietly enough for Kuro-chan to hopefully not hear it.

Oikawa pouts and crosses his arms. “He’s so rude. Kuro-chan, don’t be done in by his charms.”

“What charms?” Tendou asks with a wide grin.

 _Didn’t you just say you like me?_ Ah, to hell with it, he’s not even going to bother.

Kuroo laughs, just a short, but effective ‘ha’, and turns toward Kenjirou fully. “Name’s Kuroo Tetsurou, I play guitar. Don’t listen to those two assholes. Listen to me instead, I know what’s best.”

Oh, thank fuck, he can stop calling him Kuro-chan in his head. He was afraid he’d slip up and say it out loud. Jury’s still out on if they’ll actually get along though.

“Don’t make yourself more important than you are, I’m the band’s leader after all,” Oikawa says.

Kuroo frowns at him. “No you’re not? We don’t have a leader. We’re not even a proper band.”

“I’m the main vocalist, that makes me the leader.” He waggles his finger in front of Kuroo’s face like he’s lecturing a child. “You know how casual fans of a band always only talk about the singer’s voice and stuff and never bother to learn the names of the other band members? It’s like that.”

“That’s only how you think about it,” Tendou argues. “I like the bassists. They’re cooler.”

“I don’t think Tendou-san’s opinion really counts for anything,” Kenjirou says, mostly because he wants this to get on already. He’s not here to discuss band dynamics. He’s here to practice, and to be done with it asap.

Now it’s Oikawa’s turn to fake a dramatic gasp. “Are you agreeing with me? Guys, I think he’s agreeing with me! Ken-chan’s agreeing with me!”

“Do _not_ call me that.” Between this and Shiraboo, he’d rather take the one that actually sounds like his name. Reluctantly.

“You’re right, that’s way too simple. I could call Futa-chan the same thing. What about—”

“Don’t,” he growls.

“Aw, it’s so sweet that you two are getting along,” Tendou says and sighs. “Trust me, Tooru, this is his way of saying he loves you.”

“I’m taken. Besides, Shira-kun over here,” Oikawa says and ruffles Kenjirou’s hair (why does everyone have to do that? It’s annoying), “is way too stingy for me to ever love him back. I only accept him as my child. You’re adopted now, Kenjirun. I’m sure Keiji and I will make for great parents.”

“Can we please get to actually practicing?” If this continues, he’ll just turn around and leave.

“Semi isn’t here yet though,” Kuroo remarks and looks over to the door. “He’s not usually late. Is he alright?”

“Probably just overslept,” Kenjirou mutters. “Do we need him to start practicing?”

“We kinda have to go over the whole thing with everyone before we can ever start, so yup, we do.” Oikawa looks over to the door and smiles at it bitterly. “Of all the days …”

There’s no time for anyone to reply to that, because suddenly the door opens again and Semi finally decides to join them, carrying what looks like a mixing board, but why would they need a mixing board right now?

“Hey, sorry I’m late, I had to get this from campus,” he says and puts the thing down. Upon closer inspection, it’s probably more of an amp, which makes a bit more sense. But didn’t Kuroo already bring the instruments and all? “Oh, Shirabu, you really did show up.”

“Of course I showed up, I don’t go back on what I said,” he mutters, trying to avoid eye contact by staring at the mixing board slash amp instead.

His and Semi’s relationship has always been … Interesting. Semi and Tendou went to the same junior high school and became friends that way, and then Tendou met Kenjirou because he helped out the school orchestra a lot, and one thing led to another – suddenly they were a trio. And by ‘trio’ he means that Tendou dragged him along to meeting Semi whenever he felt like it.

If Tendou is someone he genuinely likes, in his own, strange way, Semi is someone he’d call a ‘friend by association’, but sure as heck not by choice. And ever since they’ve been going to the same university, it’s like Semi has decided that he can’t do things on his own and keeps trying to help him out whenever he has the opportunity. Sometimes it’s convenient. Most of the time it’s patronising.

Case in point, the immediate next thing he asks is, “Do you know what exactly you’ll be doing here? I can imagine Oikawa isn’t the most reliable source.”

“ _Excuse you_ , I’m very reliable and a great teacher,” Oikawa protests. “Shirabun can vouch for me.”

“Burn him for all I care,” Kenjirou says.

Someone behind him laughs in a way that sounds a lot like a dying hyena – Kuroo? It sounds about right from where he’s standing.

“How can such a small person stack so much salt inside them …” Tendou sighs. “Kenjirou, you’re a mystery.”

“I’m above average height.” But compared to all of them, he does feel unusually small. It’s a bit unnerving, he’ll admit. “Can we finally go practice now, please?”

Oikawa claps his hands. “Alright, let’s get going! Everyone come follow your leader!”

“Again, you’re not our leader,” Kuroo says, but they all end up following him to the staircase anyway. Kenjirou occasionally glances at Semi heaving that giant thing around, but it’s not like he could carry it instead and it looks unwieldy to do it with two people.

The basement turns out to actually be bigger, just like Tendou said, but it’s also grey and gloomy and looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. What kind of hotel are they running here?

“Wow, dusty,” Semi states and is proven right by the cloud of dust flying up when he sets down the amp or whatever it is. “Kuroo, didn’t you say you were gonna clean up first?”

“I did! I’m just not done yet. You don’t wanna know how it looked before this.” Kuroo looks around with an expression of disgust plain on his face. “When Tendou said this was an unused part of the house he sure wasn’t kidding.”

Kenjirou lets his gaze wander around the room; it’s as good as empty, but the instruments set up in the middle make it look at least a little bit lived in. The only light source is an annoyingly bright lamp up on the ceiling, which at least makes it easy to see everything, but that’s about all the good he can say about this place.

“Why didn’t we just practice at school?” By all accounts, that would make a lot more sense.

“Believe it or not, we didn’t get a room.” Semi glances at Kuroo. “Even though _someone_ here could have negotiated with the student council.”

Kuroo throws his hands up defensively. “Sorry, there’s only so much I can do. We need a place weekly, and we don’t have to always take everything home with us here. Besides, weren’t you the one who got us this place?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t really mind either way. Let’s go over our song now that we’re finally here.”

“Don’t just announce that, Semisemi!” Oikawa exclaims and lightly hits him on the head. “I’m the leader.”

“You’re not the leader, and don’t call me that.”

Kenjirou clears his throat loudly and actually has success with it – the banter stops immediately and Oikawa swirls around. “Right. Kuro-chan, where did you put the sheet music?”

“In that box over there,” Kuroo says and points at a corner. Kenjirou didn’t even see that there was anything there, wow.

“Alright!” Oikawa heads over to the box and pulls out the sheets – they’re at least arranged neatly in folders. When he hands Kenjirou one, he finally sees the title of the song: _Neo-Aspect_.

It’s the same one as the one Oikawa showed him that day in the rehearsal room, so at least he knows that much. He’s got to admit he doesn’t hate it. It’s suitably dramatic for someone like Oikawa, although a little too dark, maybe, but that suits Kuroo and Semi, so it’s okay. It definitely is the kind of song that these three people would write.

There is one problem, however. “This has a bassline.”

“Duh,” Kuroo says.

“You don’t have a bassist,” Kenjirou states matter-of-factly.

“Don’t say ‘you’,” Semi argues, “say ‘we’. We’re a team now. And don’t worry about the bassist, he just couldn’t make it today.”

“You could have told me that,” he says and sighs. “Do I know him at least?”

Oikawa coughs.

“It’s not _that_ dusty,” Kuroo says and elbows him in the side.

“Please don’t tell me it’s Yahaba.” If that happens, he’ll leave and never come back, extra credit be damned. He still has some dignity left.

“It’s not,” Semi says and frowns. “Who’s Yahaba anyway? The guy we’re waiting for isn’t from Karasuno, that’s why our schedules didn’t quite line up for today. I don’t think you know him.”

“Oh, I think you might,” Oikawa muses with an unhappy smile. “I guess since there’s really no point in keeping it a secret … I figured I’d wait until you can’t walk out on us, but his name’s Kawanishi. Kawanishi Taichi.”

“Hold on, _the_ Kawanishi Taichi?” a familiar voice shouts from the staircase and he barely registers Tendou standing on it with a tablet of drinks in his hands. “Like, the same Kawanishi Taichi who was with me on the tech club?”

Oh god. That’s even worse than Yahaba, for entirely different reasons.

“Look for another keyboardist,” he says before he even means to.

“Shirabu,” Semi warns.

“What? I never agreed to this. I said I’d help you out, but this—”

Tendou interrupts him by placing his hands on Kenjirou’s and Semi’s shoulders and smiling back and forth between them. “Guys, guys! This is an unfortunate situation, but no matter how bad of a time you’re having, it’s never gonna be as bad as that one time Reon slept on a chocolate bar for three nights in a row. And always remember … It could be worse. You could be Taichi.”

“I don’t want to be either me _or_ Taichi!” Kenjirou exclaims and flinches at his own volume. More quietly, he says, “Neither of us want to see each other again. You know what happened.”

“Uhm, but I don’t,” Kuroo chimes in. “What’s going on? You guys exes or something?”

It’s nothing like that. Things like that would be easier to deal with. Losing a relationship is one thing, but …

Losing a friend …

“I don’t want to talk about it, and I won’t,” he says as calmly as he can manage.

“That’s not what it is,” Oikawa says at about the same time.

“How do you even know that, Tooru?” Tendou asks and glances at Kenjirou. “Don’t tell me … You actually got Kenjirou to talk about his feelings?!”

Oikawa sighs and shakes his head. “That’s like talking to a brick wall that insults you sometimes. I have my sources, is all. And by that I mean Kawanishi’s the son of my sister’s co-worker and he’s a lot easier to talk to than Ken-chi has ever been.”

Kenjirou is surprised he didn’t hear it from Tendou, to be honest. Their fight, for as big as it was, was kept mostly between them; he never intended for anyone else to even notice it was going on, but Tendou has his ways, and he also has his ways of sharing information he’s not meant to share.

“I still don’t get it, but use this as an opportunity to fix whatever’s broken between you two,” Kuroo states and smiles at him. He can’t tell if it’s genuine or not.

Semi looks over to Kenjirou with a frown. “Can’t promise anything with this guy, but maybe you’re right.”

The thought of dealing with Taichi on a weekly basis makes his skin crawl. If he could go back in time, he’d fix it all, but he can’t, and Taichi made it pretty clear that he didn’t believe his apologies. Why would he suddenly accept them now?

He clutches the sheet music in his hands and the paper crinkles audibly in the process.

First not making it on the main orchestra. Then this whole band thing. And now he has to face Taichi again. It’s like his life has had it out for him ever since he started studying at Karasuno. Or maybe it began earlier than that. Maybe that fight was the breaking point.

“You have no choice, you know,” Oikawa states matter-of-factly.

When Kenjirou looks up to protest, his words get stuck in his throat as soon as he sees the look on his face. No smile, no frown, nothing. He’s completely expressionless.

“It’s either this or you can keep going like you have been. Has that led to any results so far? I could easily find a more skilled pianist, but I’m giving you this chance because we have nothing to lose and you have everything to gain. How arrogant do you have to be to turn it down just because there happens to be someone you have difficult history with present?”

If this was anyone else, he would have retorted something. If they were older, he’d probably have made an extra effort to be polite and as cold as possible. If they were younger, he wouldn’t have bothered with that.

But this is Oikawa, the one person in this room – well, one of the two, counting Tendou – who he knows it won’t fly with. It’s embarrassing how small he feels, has been feeling since he came here.

“I’ll try,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Rehearsal isn’t much of a rehearsal without a bassist, and they all need to properly learn their parts still anyway, so it’s over thankfully quickly. Kenjirou only gives a polite goodbye when he leaves, even though Tendou asked him if he wanted to go out and grab something to eat; he has neither the time nor the energy for that, and he’d rather not talk about Taichi, which he’s sure Tendou would try to get him to do.

Instead he opts for going home as quickly as possible, taking a quick shower, and turning to some other sheet music entirely. The orchestra has been practicing this new song that’s definitely above their level, but it’s not going to be his fault if they crash and burn with it. He’ll play his euphonium part flawlessly, thank you very much.

If his neighbours mind his playing that they can definitely hear through these thin apartment walls, they’ve never said so. That’s at least one part of his living situation that’s lucky. If he wasn’t able to practice here, whether it be with his actual instruments or the piano, he’d likely be at a loss.

Normally the euphonium comes easily to him; the appreciates the dark tones that aren’t quite as low as that of a tuba, and he’s been playing it for around ten years now, so it feels like second nature at this point. Today, though, he can’t focus on what he’s playing.

It’s not that his mind is occupied, per se. He’s gotten pretty good at clearing it over the years, his ability to concentrate on the task ahead is one thing he’d consider his strong suit. But the sounds don’t resonate to his ears as they usually do. Although he’s playing the right notes, it sounds hollow; or maybe he’s just imagining that. It’s like he’s playing through a layer of fog and silent white noise, and eventually he stops, feeling strangely hollow.

Ever since band rehearsal started, everything has just kind of been passing by him.

Kenjirou puts his euphonium away again and sits down on his bed with no real purpose. There’s no work today, and he’s up to date with all his school work. He needs something to get his mind working properly again.

His eyes land on his piano.

“No,” he says out loud. “Not today.”

But he does need to practice, and maybe something related to it could be the kickstart his brain needs.

Oikawa did force that book on him; he should at least try and decipher the songs in it. Right, writing them out properly sounds like a simple enough task to be exactly what he needs right now. And if he doesn’t do it, Oikawa’s going to annoy him over it until he does, so he might as well get it over with.

The book has been lying untouched on his coffee table ever since he took it out of his bag, looking even sorrier like that than when it was on the floor in the music room. He almost feels bad for the thing, but only almost.

He grabs his laptop, opens the cheap sheet writing program they made him buy for one of his classes, and opens the book again.

It doesn’t look any better than it used to. In fact, now that he knows he has to transcribe this into something that makes sense, it looks even worse. He feels himself involuntarily frowning at the page, then sighs.

_Let’s get this over with._

Now that he’s looking at it more closely, there’s a lot of rambling in between the more important notes and annotations. Things like _screw this part!!!_ and little reminders to _buy milk_ or _give Erika the handout from yesterday_. There are doodles on the sides too, crude drawings of what he thinks are supposed to be dogs and horses. Hiira, whoever they are, must have used this book quite frequently. It certainly has character, that’s for sure.

It makes it really hard to read what actually matters, though, and he ends up spending an hour on deciphering the first three pages alone. After a while he settles into a rhythm; it’s not … _Not_ fun, and it does clear up his mind a little. By the time he’s finished with the first piece, everything feels a little more vibrant again.

Kenjirou stares at the neat transcription for a moment. He hopes he worked out exactly what Hiira wanted, or at least made it performable, or else he’ll be at another dead end.

Well, he has it now. Might as well try it out.

Once he’s sitting on his piano stool, he feels a little bit defeated. “I ended up here again after all, huh,” he mutters to nobody in particular, then glares at his piano. “Screw you.”

Playing off a laptop screen sounds pretty annoying, but it’s all he has right now. It’s not like he’s at the point where he can just play a new piece down without having to practice first, anyway. He’s not Oikawa. He’ll take it in sections, just like always.

He noticed this while transcribing it, but it’s all the more apparent when he’s actually playing: this is a difficult song. It’s fast and all-over-the-place, almost all the notes of the melody in the intro are sixteenths, and the whole thing spans three octaves in the first four measures alone. So he starts slowly, to get a feel for where his fingers need to land, without the harmony for now.

It’s frustrating, to mess up as much as he’s currently doing in the beginning already. Kenjirou is aware he’s still somewhat of a beginner, and of course he won’t be able to do it right off the bat, but he still finds himself wishing he could discover an unknown genius somewhere in the back of his mind.

There’s no such thing, of course. He knows that. He’s lived his entire life like that, making up for the lack of it with rigorous practice. Oikawa once said he used to be like that, which also pisses him off. He doesn’t want to be like Oikawa. Oikawa’s going to be an accomplished musician someday, Kenjirou is just …

Someone who looks at that and wishes it could be him instead.

He stops.

“What are you thinking?” he asks himself quietly. “You’re going to get there. That’s the whole point.”

He sits up a little straighter and starts again.

If the intro won’t work out, he’s going to pick something else instead. The first verse looks pretty manageable. There’s lyrics, but he hasn’t bothered with writing them down yet; besides, he can’t sing anyway. Maybe Oikawa will, if they practice this together. He’d probably have a blast.

This is working out a little bit better – it’s actually quite a nice song, especially once he adds the left hand harmonies. When transcribing, he thought it’d be on the dramatic side, but playing it, it all comes together neatly into a rather happy, easy-going melody, especially when he goes over it again and plays it a little more quietly. If he had to compare it to anything, it’d probably be the transition of winter to spring, when the weather is still unpredictable but the first flowers have started blooming, promising that it’ll get warmer soon.

It’s a song he wants to try playing for real.

Admitting that to Oikawa is going to be a pain, he can already imagine the _I told you so_ s, but it’s better than what that guy picked for him before. This way, he can at least fool himself into thinking he has a little bit of control over this. And it’s enough of a challenge to be a self esteem boost once he can properly do the intro part.

Kenjirou doesn’t know exactly how long he keeps practicing, but by the time he decides he’s had enough, it’s dark outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after their rehearsal, Oikawa barged into Akaashi's apartment, flopped down on his sofa, and went on and on about Shirabu for half an hour straight

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! ♥
> 
> shout with me about rarepairs on [tumblr](http://akaashi-tooru.tumblr.com/)


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